


Fleeting Touches

by Calesvol



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-19 16:56:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13708701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calesvol/pseuds/Calesvol
Summary: Afillfor the FFXV kinkmeme, neither Gladio nor Noctis can sleep. Noctis helps him through that, with a heart-to-heart thrown in.





	Fleeting Touches

(Warnings: G, none)

 

* * *

 

He didn’t know how many days it had been since they’d even come to the Vesperpool. All he did was that the sky didn’t entangle itself so closely with the stars when the high umbrage of the trees netted with the sky, making old and familiar constellations difficult to discern. Like a nexus of nature and stars, it was something to think about. Something other than an uncertain future he didn’t know would bring. The familiar rocky outcropping of the Haven was tough on his skin, but the glowing runic patterns almost eased it.

 

Noctis didn’t sit in a lawn chair that still lingered around the spent fire pit, liking the way the cool, coarse stone felt beneath his seat. Together in the tent could get uncomfortably warm, even if they were just unruly tangles of limbs and dried perspiration and the veld’s dust. A breezy caress of air pulled his bangs over his cheeks, the prince unable to help but smile to himself.

 

Though, his midnight meditation was interrupted by a familiar lumber, soft footfalls others wouldn’t hear but Noctis was simply too used to. A butterfly soft smile flitted to his features, craning as the Shield sat near him with a grunt.

 

“Hell’re you doing up this late? Don’t really have to sit and stand watch, y’know,” Gladio greeted unconventionally with a lazy slouching of his back, propping himself on his arms and laying partially on his spine, legs akimbo.

 

Noctis couldn’t help but smile teasingly. “What, and be all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed tomorrow? I’ve got a reputation to maintain,” he simpered, earning a handful tousling his spiky black locks in rebuttal. Chuckling and batting away Gladio’s hand, it grew quiet quiet between them. But, not entirely comfortably.

 

“Hey, Gladio.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

Noctis looked pensive, averting his sapphire gaze. “Just...the thing, with being Shield. Kinda—something I realized. With Insomnia being gone and all, you...technically don’t have to stick around if you didn’t want to.”

 

What was left of the comfortable silence evaporated, becoming tense and chill. Gladio had since lain on the stone, arms propped behind him in a makeshift pillow. Those deep amber eyes remained locked with the moon, before he heaved himself upright with a grunt, slouched over and not yet collected. His lips thinned, tracing whorls in the stone. “Y’know, years ago, before I really knew anything, I could’ve. Before I got what being a Shield really meant.” He gave Noctis a meaningful look and held the prince’s gaze steadily.

 

“Iggy told me awhile back that this stopped being duty to him when he was just a kid. He decided all on his own that him serving you doesn’t have anything to do with duty. That he wants to protect you to his last. He doesn’t serve the kingdom, or Lucis. He serves you—only you.

 

“Got me thinking, back when he really started training with the Crownsguard. Dad did, too, ‘course. He didn’t serve your dad out of some...begrudging obligation. He did it because they’re friends, brothers. Kinda like what I hope we’ll really become. Tight.” Gladio chuffed and crossed his index and forefingers together to demonstrate. Though, his spine cracked and the Shield stiffened again, Noctis taking silent notice.

 

He coaxed Gladio on his lap, the older man sighing contentedly as his head sank comfortably on warm, supple thighs as opposed to the stony ground. Delicate hands worked through his mohawk, lavishing soft touches that he almost groaned into. “...Sorry. For putting you on the spot like that,” Noctis apologized after a long lapse of silence, Gladio cracking an eye open at him.

 

Gladio took one of Noctis’ hands into his own, holding it flush to his warm, heart-throbbing sternum. Pink dusted on Noctis’ cheeks, but he was grateful the angle Gladio rested and the darkness made it difficult to tell.

 

“--Everything that’s happened. Still hasn’t really sunk in yet,” Gladio murmured as he felt Noctis’ arms inexorably embrace around his neck, the younger burying his face into it. He knew. They both knew what tangent this went on. “Our old men went out fighting ‘til their last. Even… Fuck. Still doesn’t feel like they’re gone.” Gladio’s throat closed, suddenly more grateful for Noctis’ sudden embrasure now more than ever.

 

Noctis nodded blearily, the Shield biting his lower lip until he nudged his way from Noctis’ hold, the prince looking vulnerable and teary. That was, until Gladio pulled the much smaller man into his arms and engulfed him so tightly one could barely tell them apart from afar. “I’m sorry about Clarus,” Noctis croaked, swallowing down a lump in his throat.

 

Gladio said nothing, only enveloping Noctis in his presence. Even if he didn’t say it, he needed this as much as Noctis did.

 

In each other’s arms, just beginning to heal.


End file.
